


The Metamorphosis of Dean Winchester: Part II

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Series: October Fic Fest [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Castiel Loves Dean, Dean Has A Wing Kink, Dean Has Powers, Dean Loves Castiel, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Ficlet Collection, Forests, Friendship/Love, Georgia, Hunters & Hunting, Intimacy, Kissing, Love, M/M, Making Out, Non-Sexual Intimacy, One Shot, One Shot Collection, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Mark of Cain, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Dean, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sneaking Around, Team Free Will, Telepath Castiel, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, The Darkness - Freeform, Touching, Walks In The Woods, Werewolves, Wing Kink, Winged Castiel, Wings, hunting werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whether or not Sam understood the thinly veiled lie about needing to take a leak crossed Dean's mind. It didn't end up mattering by the time he'd hiked across the meadow into another treeline. They'd gotten used to clearing out of each other's ways over the years since they started entertaining romantic liaisons. It wouldn't take long, Dean thought. He just wanted a respite with Castiel to bask in the newness of it all. The unguarded intimacy brought about from his new ability to see through the veil between the physical and the spiritual was a bit like a high. He was secure in himself enough to admit he was a little bit addicted to Castiel since he began seeing him--really seeing him. The truth all along became clear. Castiel saved him and was saved in return because they had loved each other even before Dean's memory kicked in after Hell. Things were still so new and so complicated for him even if the angel understood everything the whole time in his steady, silent way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Metamorphosis of Dean Winchester: Part II

**Author's Note:**

> Part I of this story posted last night at http://archiveofourown.org/works/4912432 or you can look at the whole October Fic Fest list at http://archiveofourown.org/series/321491 for more!

Whether or not Sam understood the thinly veiled lie about needing to take a leak crossed Dean's mind. It didn't end up mattering by the time he'd hiked across the meadow into another treeline. They'd gotten used to clearing out of each other's ways over the years since they started entertaining romantic liaisons.

It wouldn't take long, Dean thought. He just wanted a respite with Castiel to bask in the newness of it all. The unguarded intimacy brought about from his new ability to see through the veil between the physical and the spiritual was a bit like a high. He was secure in himself enough to admit he was a little bit addicted to Castiel since he began seeing him--really seeing him. The truth all along became clear. Castiel saved him and was saved in return because they had loved each other even before Dean's memory kicked in after Hell. Things were still so new and so complicated for him even if the angel understood everything the whole time in his steady, silent way.

Castiel stopped and began plucking a few wildflowers. Fluffy purple blooms grew into a bunch in one fist. They were on a break from tracking a bloodthirsty werewolf den and Sam was probably cursing at them already to come back, but there Castiel wandered in that field collecting wildflowers. The sun wasn't even out anymore. He wasn't kidding when he said he could see like a cat in the dark. A little smile turned up the corner of Dean's mouth as he observed.

They hadn't been talking much since Dean underwent the nameless changes. He understood more every day why the old days weren't very verbose for Castiel as they fell into their new routines. Speech was such a limited manner of expression once the vastness of the unseen universe made itself known to a sentient being.

"You're becoming a poet," Castiel commented in an idle tone. He wandered closer as he examined his purple treasures with the eye of both a scientist and an artist.

Dean slid his hands into his pockets, leaning against a pine tree trunk. "Are you listening to my brain, dude?"

"No, dude." The angel gave him a quick eye and a half-smile. "It's your soul. The colors gradually changed from warm tones to cool tones over the course of the day. Warm colors are attributed to impulsive, aggressive behavior. Cooler colors seem to wash over souls taking time for inner reflection and opening one's heart."

"So you're saying you knew what I was feeling all these years before I did because you were creeping on my soul."

Only another half-smile answered the allegation.

"Well, was it entertaining?"

"Very." Castiel strolled closer and slid a flower into Dean's shirt pocket. His voice lowered, still wearing a little grin. "You turn a bit purple when you're thinking about physical love. Once I came to you for another spell during the sixty-six seals and you were blazing purple like a blacklight. I couldn't understand why because you were by yourself. Then I realized you must have been watching one of those inappropriate adult films before I appeared."

Eyes averted, Dean let himself laugh deep in his chest. "Okay, probably. But they're not inappropriate. You just gotta..." his hand rolled, thinking, "...gotta find what you like."

"You're turning purple." And the angel found it hilarious.

Surprised to be going bashful, Dean laughed again. "Stop looking, you perv!"

Drawing in closer, Castiel's full mouth formed a contented smile as he slipped his arms around Dean's waist. The hunter tipped his shotgun against the tree. He kept his weapon within reach but set it aside in a display meant to convey Castiel had his full attention, at least for the moment.

He leaned forward and their foreheads came to rest together. The cool ease with which Dean slipped into the darkness provided by strong wings shielding them from prying eyes. Castiel's fist clutched the shirt gathered at the small of Dean's back as if he feared they'd be torn apart. That was his way since realizing the need to touch was a mutual one. He'd evidently wanted intimacy for so long that he lived in fear of the bubble bursting before they had time to set everything right together. Eyes fell shut and Dean's absent hand grazed the ever-present stubble marking his face. It turned out that familiar scratchy sensation offered Dean consolation in the new state of the dark world. Once in a while, he found himself touching Castiel's face the way a child touched a treasured blanket kept for a sense of security.

"I have a secret to tell you," Castiel whispered.

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched in a possible smile. "Lay it on me."

"I think you're special."

Dean's brow lifted. "That's all? I know I kick ass." The gentle teasing in his tone sounded new in his ears. He kissed Castiel with a tender nibble on his lower lip, which made the angel smile against his mouth.

"No, I mean it's bigger than that." He paused and looked to one side, focused on nothing, but appeared to collect his thoughts. "Do you know humans are forbidden from touching angel wings? Not allowing you to perceive them is supposed to remove the temptation and the safeguard worked for thousands of years, until now." He looked at Dean then and clutched him around the waist even tighter. "When I realized what you were seeing and you touched me before I could stop you, I thought I was going to watch you die in the flames of my grace. That's what is supposed to happen."

That explained why Castiel bolted across the room with the speed of a thought the first time he'd tried it. He sobered thinking of it but wouldn't let go of their embrace any more than his angel would. Time passed, measured out in tentative fingertips experimenting with the sensation of black feathers moving in the light through other colors, and they never discussed it. No talk--only sensation.

"I think you're meant to be the man who saves us all from The Darkness, Dean."

He drew up, a breath filling him, and he stared over Castiel's head for a moment in contemplation. "Not me," he decided. "Us. Together."

"I'll be your right hand in all things but you are the Righteous Man."

"There wouldn't be a Righteous Man without the Angel of the Lord who kicked hellspawn ass to save him," argued Dean. "And there wouldn't be me here now--calmer, not so angry, sober, knowing I can kill The Darkness--without you pushing me to be a better man."

Unable to say anything to that, it seemed, Castiel pursed his lips and sank fully into Dean's embrace. His head bent over Dean's shoulder and squeezed him, that inhuman strength pulsing through his arm muscles. The hunter's face bent to the private curve of the angel's neck and burrowed into his collar, dropping slow kisses along the way. It fed his strength knowing in his ordinary mouthy life, he didn't need to explain himself when those wings brushed his skin. He breathed in the clean, airy scent of angelic grace and closed his eyes.

Castiel's back muscles flexed in Dean's hands and those black feathered curtains moved. He fluffed himself almost like a bird reacting to touch. A piece of exposed, scarred flesh passed before Dean's eyes, making him wince with the image of what must have caused it. His hand peeled away from Castiel's back and he touched the smooth burn scars, which seemed risen and shiny all at once. The wing trembled, barely perceptible, and Dean wondered to himself if those healed over burns still caused him pain. Being sentenced to immortality with such a damaged body seemed shitty and unfair. He would have taken those burns into himself if he could--a man who would eventually die and kill the pain with him.

Lifting back from Castiel's shoulder, he slipped his hands around that strong, familiar jaw and kissed him. The angel acquiesced willingly. Lips parted and tongues met, brushing one another not in lustful hunger but loving calm. Yes, Dean had changed because of the veil being lifted from his limited human sight. He saw the beauty in everything--especially the angel who wanted to belong to him. The old Dean would have been greedy for a quick climax but now--yes--now he liked drawing it out for hours, sometimes days.

"You're not as different as you think," Castiel whispered, playing with his lips.

"Why?"

"You might be softer and slower to anger now but that hungry part of you blazes bright purple with barely a touch." And he thought it was funny. "Dean Winchester will always have a starving appetite for the flesh."

"Yeah, maybe," replied Dean, attitude rising in his grin, "but now I have more self-control. I can keep you teetering on the edge for days and not break a sweat."

"Is that so?" One dark brow lifted.

Dean laughed. "Try me, angel."

Who said they couldn't play the private games lovers do even if they lived bizarre lives hunting evil? Still grinning, Dean kissed Castiel again, and then took his hand, leading him back to the footpath. Werewolf den first. Lovers' games later. For now, he was content to blaze like a purple light in the woods alongside an angel whose wings needed loving touch.


End file.
